


The First (and Last) Annual New Vegas Wet T-Shirt Contest

by PipGirl



Category: Fallout: New Vegas
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-28
Updated: 2016-11-28
Packaged: 2018-09-02 21:51:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8684746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PipGirl/pseuds/PipGirl
Summary: What it says on the tin. Benny judges. Happily.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Written in response to a prompt at the Fallout Kink Meme that requested a wet t-shirt contest hosted by the Courier in New Vegas, with bonus points if Benny were involved in some way.
> 
> Like Benny would say no to being involved in a wet t-shirt contest. :)

The courier found Benny sitting in a back corner of Aces sipping a cocktail, exactly where and how she knew she'd find him. He'd gotten a little predictable since they'd taken over New Vegas, which was part of the reason she was here. She leaned over his shoulder. "Ever heard of a wet t-shirt contest?"

He hardly glanced at her. "No. Should I have?"

"It seems the sort of thing you'd approve of," she replied offhandedly as she took a seat across from him, deliberately blocking his view of the stage. As he started to lean to look past her at the new (female) dancers they'd hired, she continued, "It's an all-woman competition--"

She had his attention now.

"-- where the women dress in t-shirts with nothing under them, get soaked with water, and are then judged for their attractiveness. According to Veronica, it's an Old World tradition."

He raised his eyebrows. "And where do we find one of these quaint little competitions?"

"I want to host one. Here. On the Strip."

He grinned. "You run with that, Pussycat."

"And I want you to judge."

The grin somehow got bigger, and he took a slow drink. "The day just keeps improving, girlie girl."

 

Benny was surprised at the number of contestants they had. But he supposed any distraction was welcome in the wasteland, even someplace as bustling as the Strip. He sure wasn't going to complain about the turnout. A bevy of beautiful babes, dressed in a variety of pants and skirts but invariably "topped" off with thin cotton, danced and flirted with a rowdy crowd of Mojave citizens, NCR soldiers and civilians, and casino families. The crowd enthusiastically drenched the women with water brought in from Lake Mead, and the whooping and hollering was almost deafening.

Swank, at his right, nudged Benny's arm. "I like that one," he said, gesturing with his chin. "Think I'll give her a little taste after she wins."

Benny looked where Swank had indicated and suppressed a smirk. "You're gonna have to grow a nice pair of charlies and way better legs to get her attention." At Swank's frown, he explained. "That's Veronica. You know? The courier's friend."

He enjoyed Swank's disappointment, just a little, as he turned back to the contestants. Cass had shown up, too, had probably dragged Veronica there with her, and his eyebrows shot up as she danced out of the crowd. She wore a sopping wet shirt, and nothing else. He'd never expected to find out if the carpet matched the drapes, but hell, now everyone knew. She howled happily and spun in a circle; a soldier grabbed at her ass and she punched him to the ground without skipping a beat in her happy dance. "You can look, fellas," she sang out, "but no touching without permission."

Benny grinned. He was tempted to declare her the winner just for that. But then another woman caught his eye, and he was hard pressed to look at anyone else.

Whatever bottoms she had on were hidden beneath her shirt, though the clingy material showed that, unlike Cass, she _was_ wearing something. But it was short enough to expose her long, creamy legs from bare, slender foot almost to her hip. Those hips were full, swaying sinuously along with the other women's dance, but more slowly than they, more seductively. Those gorgeous hips curved elegantly upward to a tucked waist, which in turn swelled out in a perfect hourglass. At first, he didn't think she had much on top, not enough to complement those luscious hips, but as she danced, his eyebrows reached for his hairline again. Her breasts were large-- so large, in fact, that "perkiness" was impossible. They instead lay heavy against her chest until she raised her arms in her swaying dance, automatically lifting her tits. Her nipples were swollen, sharply erect beneath the cloth, which now clung to the underside of her breasts in places, accentuating just how big and full those charlies were. She gave her hips a twirl, swiveling them in a circle, and her tits swayed and bounced. God, he hoped he wasn't drooling, but he'd found his winner, without a doubt. He pointed her out and the crowd whooped. Cass celebrated the woman's win by whipping off her shirt and flinging it into the crowd. "Give that back to me with some numbers on it!" she hollered. More whoops followed.

The winner approached Benny and Swank to collect her prize, a hefty sum of caps staked by the Tops. And Benny finally managed to look further up her body than just her tits. He nearly fell over when he found himself face to face with the courier, her expression both amused and mocking. She'd fought her way across the Mojave, through the Legion, tearing up everything in her way; he rarely saw her in anything but armor. He'd hardly ever even thought of her as female.

But wow, now he couldn't think of anything else.

She put her forefinger beneath his chin and closed his mouth. "So, do I get my prize?" she purred.

He didn't trust his voice. He nodded instead.

She took a tiny step forward, not touching, but close enough that her hair and shirt dripped onto his shoes. Not that he minded. "Do you think," she asked, glancing downward with faux shyness, her voice soft and breathy, "that I could trade in my prize for something else?"

He finally spoke. "What'd you have in mind, Pussycat?"

She leaned into him, slipping one arm under his jacket to wrap around his waist and settling her hand on his shoulder blade, her body pushed against him so that she soaked his shirtfront and forced her breasts to swell up between them as if she were wearing a corset. Her other hand dropped between their hips and she caressed his balls and cock through his pants. She leaned up and nibbled at his jawline.

He tossed the bag of caps back to Swank without looking at him. "Give that to Cass. It's the second place award now." Then he wrapped his arms around the courier and pulled her in even more tightly. "'Cause girl, you just won yourself the finest thing in this town."

She stroked him again, smiling as she felt the length of him grown hard now. "You know, Benny," she said, her eyes meeting his, "for once, I think you might be telling the truth."


End file.
